the road this far can't be retraced
by broken-social-contract
Summary: The Evil Queen needs a miracle to keep the curse intact. At the very least, she needs Emma Swan out of town. But, nothing goes as planned.  Emma/Regina, side of Mary/David.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **the road this far can't be retraced

**Rating**: T (maybe M if I can stop being a prude)

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything. Title comes from a song by the Mountain Goats called _Tallahassee_.

**Summary**: The Queen needs a miracle to keep the curse intact. At the very least, she needs Emma Swan out of town. But, nothing goes as planned.

**Spoilers: **Post-1x07 and will also use material from the 1x08 Promos

**Note: **A kind of long work-in-progress. It will definitely have an endpoint – it might just take a while to get there. Huge thanks to CRISPAY22 for looking this over for me! 

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><p><em>there is no plan we can fall back on<em>

_the road is this far can't be retraced_

_there is no punch line anybody can tack on_

_there are loose ends by the score_

_what did i come down here for?_

_**you**. _

Tallahassee, the Mountain Goats.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

A large crowd gathered for the funeral on a rainy Saturday morning to pay their respects for Storybrooke's late Sheriff.

Regina Mills stood beside her son, Henry, half-listening to the priest as her thoughts wandered away from the present situation. She needed a Sheriff – someone less likely to stray from the path of blissful ignorance than the previous one.

The Huntsman marched to the beat of his own drum; now, Graham had paid the price.

Lightning tore through the sky creating a bright gash through the gray clouds. Thunder rumbled seconds after, drowning out the priest's words. Regina shifted her weight from one leg to another causing her heels to sink further into the soil that had softened in the downpour.

She missed Graham in the week since his passing. She missed him in fits and spurts, in those moments where she once needed him to fill up empty space. The Sheriff had been a steady and constant presence in her life for the last twenty-eight years, the warm body at night and the person she could almost trust to keep the town in order. After twenty-eight years, she developed an attachment – a fondness for Graham that extended beyond what she normally felt for people she controlled.

And, she missed him- enough that a sliver of regret accompanied these fits and spurts of acknowledging the loss.

Regina felt Henry huddle closer to her under the umbrella. Out of an old habit, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer still, only to be met with resistance. Henry stiffened under her touch. Regina bit the inside of her cheek to keep from frowning, and kept her eyes trained ahead. After a couple of minutes, she allowed her arm to fall back to her side.

"Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return." The priest announced with finality. A quiet murmur rang through the crowd as the service came to an end. Numerous hands flew up to rub away stray tears.

The gears of the lowering device creaked as they turned while the wooden box began to sink into the hole. Regina watched, heart seizing in her chest, as the weight of what had taken place less than a week ago settled in place. She blinked, once, feeling stray tears pool at the corner of her eyes.

This moment – standing underneath an umbrella in a cemetery watching another casket lowered to the ground – was never part of the plan. She used the pad of her thumb to dab the tears and swallowed around the regret that had begun to fester.

The force of Henry suddenly curling into her and pressing his face into her side pushed her back into the present. One of his arms wrapped loosely around her waist, anchoring him to her – a gesture he hadn't done in years.

She realized, a beat later, Henry was hiding his own tears, and her heart lurched again with a twist. "It's okay," Regina whispered over his head as she held him close. "It's okay." For a moment – a fleeting, blink-and-you-miss-it moment, – Regina felt a stab of relief as she thought maybe, _maybe_ this would bring her son back.

People began to file past them once the coffin hit the ground, wood colliding with dirt in a soft _thud_, but Regina stood in place, rubbing Henry's back with one hand and clutching tightly onto the umbrella with the other to keep them both sheltered from the rain.

"Let's go home, okay?" Regina savored the feel of Henry sinking into her arms. It had been years, now, since he displayed any affection towards her, or allowed her to hold him like this. "Let's go home." She mumbled, threading her fingers in his hair while he shook against her, shoulders trembling as he sobbed quietly.

A pair of eyes watched mother and son from a distance, unsure of whether it would be appropriate to intrude.

Emma Swan took a hesitant step forward, only to be tugged back by Mary Margaret Blanchard, who grabbed a fistful of Emma's jacket to keep her in place.

"Don't do anything you'll regret." Mary warned softly because Emma's week was already full of that.

The night after the on-call physician proclaimed Graham dead on arrival, Emma stumbled home drunk and on the verge of tears which morphed into hot anger when Mary tried to reach out to her.

"I think you've helped enough." Emma frowned at the cup of water Mary offered.

Mary's brow knitted together in confusion. "Wha-"

"My _wall_. You_ said_ it was keeping out love." She swiped at her eyes when her vision began to blur.

_God, what was she still doing in this town?_

The room swayed from side to side. Emma squeezed her eyes shut when her head began to pound and her stomach churned violently. Its contents threatened to rush up her throat the harder the room spun around her.

"Emma-" Mary's hand curled around her arm to keep the blonde from toppling.

Emma sucked in a sharp breath and jerked her arm back, eyes flying open to glare at the brunette. "Just, fuck off." The words left her momentarily satisfied, especially when hurt flashed across Mary's face.

Shame over the exchange struck Emma as soon as she opened her eyes the next morning. A glass of water, aspirin, and a simple note (_Feel better –M.M.) _sat on her nightstand.

On the fourth day post-Graham's death, a distraught Henry cornered her at the office. Wide-eyed with fear, he claimed his mother killed Graham that night because the Sheriff had been breaking out of the curse. The certainty in his voice snapped something in Emma, and frustration replaced the patience she normally reserved for the kid.

"Graham died of a heart attack, kid." She bent down to meet his gaze, voice strained and weary. "He died of a heart attack, and not because of the stories in your book."

"Why don't you believe me?" His eyes took on a hard look that reminded Emma of the Mayor. It was the same look Regina sported when she was arguing her point - withering and indignant.

"Because the stories aren't real!" Emma burst out, looking everywhere but at Henry. Her eyes fell on Graham's empty office where a coffee cup and darts remained on his desk along with a mess of paperwork in a haphazard pile.

Emma gulped down the sudden burst of grief.

"This-" She gestured at the space between them. "-is real. Your life, here, in Storybrooke is real. Graham was _just_ Graham, and he died of a heart attack."

Henry froze momentarily at her outburst. And, then he growled: "You're wrong! You're wrong and people are going to keep dying because of you." He mashed his lips together and glared fiercely back at her. After a beat, his face crumpled into disappointment. He tried to blink back his tears but they fell and stained his cheeks, anyway.

"Henry," Emma started, desperate to take the moment back, but the kid had already spun on his heels and rushed out of the building.

She moved to chase after the boy, but stopped when she heard the station door slam shut with a resounding bang. She leaned back against her desk, sitting herself on the edge of it as guilt kept her in place.

Emma didn't know how to be a hero.

Or, someone's mother.

The funeral was the first time Emma had seen Henry since the station. She watched him and the Mayor during the service, sitting three rows behind them at the church and standing on the other side of the coffin where she could observe them easily at the cemetery. It was better than her other option: thinking about Graham's lifeless body in the casket and mulling over what-ifs.

_What if she had sent him to the hospital for a check-up that afternoon instead of entertaining his delusions?_

_What if she hadn't allowed Mary Margaret to goad her into letting Graham a fraction past her walls?_

"I'm just going to offer condolences." Emma assured her roommate, stepping out of Mary's grip. "Do you want to wait for me in the car?" Emma held her keys out to the brunette, and Mary pocketed them with a nod.

"He's ten. He's probably over it by now." Mary offered her a tight smile before walking off towards the parking lot, leaving Emma to stand by herself in the rain. The Deputy watched Mary disappear into the crowd of other mourners, grateful that there was at least one person left on her side.

"Hey." Emma approached the duo cautiously, stopping a couple of feet away from where they stood. A few of the exiting townspeople turned their heads, anticipating a heated exchange between the Mayor and the Deputy. Emma scowled openly at them.

"Deputy Swan." Regina straightened up and regarded the blonde warily. Henry pulled away from his mother and rubbed a hand over his face. His eyes were red and puffy, and Emma's hand twitched, wishing she could reach over to hug him.

"I-" Emma tripped over her words, unsure of how to phrase her sentiments. She paused and waited for the last group of people to move out of earshot. "I'm sorry about Graham." She shoved both hands into her pockets while Henry tucked himself behind his mother.

The statement felt empty and not quite what Emma wanted to convey.

Regardless of their falling out before his death, Emma figured Regina was still affected by the loss. Regina and Graham had slept together for years, after all. Regina could have easily felt _something_ for the Sheriff, even if Graham didn't feel the same.

Emma was too familiar with those situations. Unrequited emotions had been her forte in her early twenties. So, there were quiet moments, late at night when Emma watched passing car lights dance across her ceiling, that Emma came close to feeling sorry for Regina.

"I'm going to wait in the car." Henry announced stiffly. He avoided Emma's apologetic glance, and practically stomped through the lawn ignoring Regina's order to come back since he was without an umbrella.

"Would you like to explain what that was about?" Regina turned to Emma, disgruntled.

Emma ignored the question. "I'm sorry for your loss." She repeated, instead, louder this time as the rain fell thickly around them. "I know that-"

"Stop." Regina raised a hand up to prevent Emma from continuing, because this was the last conversation she _ever_ wanted to have.

If Emma hadn't stayed, if Emma had returned to Boston, if Emma had just stopped trying to take away the people in Regina's life, Graham could have been saved. She would have found a way to erase his memories of the Huntsman because she wanted him _alive_.

Mournfully, she thought: _what good was Graham to her dead?_ The sudden stab of loss that followed the thought, an awful reminder of all things she didn't have, caused the Mayor to bristle.

"If you had stayed away, if you had taken him to the hospital instead of the cemetery," Regina hissed, stepping into the blonde's personal space so that Emma was half underneath the umbrella. Her voice wavered between rage and anguish. "He would still be alive!"

"I know." Emma responded without missing a beat. She glanced around the now empty graveyard. All that remained was the two of them, the gaping open hole that would house Graham's remains, and the mound of dirt the caretaker would later use to fill up the hole. "Don't you think I _know_ that?" She cringed inwardly at the way her voice trembled, and bit down on her bottom lip when she felt it quiver.

Regina studied the blonde, startled by the admission. The defeat in Emma's tone threw her off because she was expecting another fist fight or an argument at the very least. She was waiting for Emma to blame _her _for Graham's death, and had spent the better part of her week formulating a response to the accusation.

None of the scenarios had involved _this_: Emma waving a white flag – the closest to a white flag Regina would get, at least.

Taking Regina's silence as a bad omen, Emma stepped around the other woman to walk away from the conversation. "I have to go." Emma muttered, refusing to provide Regina the satisfaction of reveling in this victory. Her boots squished down on the softened dirt, footsteps heavy and dragging as she made her way past the opened grave and across the lot.

When thunder clapped overhead a third time, Emma began to sprint towards her car, jumping over puddles and slipping on patches of mud in a scramble for cover. It was a terrible day to have a funeral, Emma thought angrily. She yanked the car door open and climbed into the driver's seat, dripping water everywhere as she caught her breath.

Silence settled in the car, which Mary broke tentatively. "Do you want to talk about it?" The urge to pull her roommate into a hug grew as seconds ticked by without a response. But Mary quelled the desire because Emma was quick to retreat from displays of kindness and affection.

She reminded Mary of strays at the animal shelter.

"There's nothing to talk about." Emma shifted the car to drive and eased her foot off the brake.

"But, if you ever wanted to talk," Mary pressed forward. "I can listen." She smoothed out a wrinkle on her dress with the palm of her hand, wishing Emma would accept the offer.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Mary smiled. 

* * *

><p>Henry climbed onto the stool and got on his knees to peer into the pots on the stovetop. The smell of tomatoes, garlic, and other spices had reached his room, and his stomach grumbled noisily in response. He had spent the majority of the afternoon on the floor of his room, reading through story after story in his fairy tale book to find meaning in Graham's death – he'd found none.<p>

The smell of food piqued his curiosity. Henry couldn't remember the last time the Mayor cooked a meal.

"Are we having spaghetti?" He grabbed the wooden spoon and stirred the sauce while Regina cut an apple into slices by the sink.

"It's still your favorite, right?" She walked towards him with a bowl in hand, and he declined the slices of apple with a shake of his head

"Of course it's still my favorite!" He scooped out a spoonful of sauce and lifted it to his mouth. A small cloud of vapor curled out of the viscous liquid, so he blew on it with puffed cheeks until it was safe to taste. When he was younger, the Mayor would cook spaghetti and meatballs every Friday night for dinner. Then, they would watch a movie on the couch with a large bowl of popcorn.

Henry wanted that back, at least for today, wanted the ignorance of his six year old self that loved the Mayor unconditionally, that believed she would protect him from harm.

"Good?"

"Perfect." He confirmed with a cautious smile, dropping the spoon back into the pot.

"Go set the table then," she ordered in what sounded close to a playful tone. She returned his smile with a small one of her own, reaching around him to lower the fire.

He almost wanted to hug her, like he had earlier at the funeral. He wanted to ask her what happened when people died in Storybrooke, hoped so desperately that the answer would be that they were transported back into the fairy tales – curse broken and happy ending achieved.

_Where was Graham now? Where was the Huntsman?_

"What's it like to die?" He wondered out loud, peering up at the Queen as he slid off the stool. "Does it hurt?" He had been thinking about it for the past week, particularly today, when he'd seen Graham's body in the casket during the mass.

Regina worried her bottom lip, unsure of how to answer either question.

"It doesn't hurt." She finally answered. "It's like going to sleep."

She held his gaze to cast away the doubt that remained written across his face. "I promise. It doesn't hurt. And, nothing is going to happen to you while I'm around, got it?"

Henry frowned. "But-"

"Nothing bad is going to happen to you if I can help it." Regina repeated firmly going up a decibel.

Under the fluorescent glow of their kitchen and with pasta boiling on the stove, Henry allowed himself to believe her.

And, when she pulled him into a hug, he allowed himself to sink into it and pretend it was a safe place. He pushed the thought of all the blood that stained her hands as far away as possible because he _needed_ this.

He needed someone to be his mother. 

* * *

><p><em>She rushed down the dirt path, urging the horse to quicken his pace with a firm press of her heels into his side. She gripped onto the reigns until her knuckles turned white, and her heart drummed a syncopated rhythm that broke the rules of meter.<em>

_Jumping off before the horse stopped completely, she landed on both feet and stumbled forward towards the overturned carriage. The unhinged door provided an easy view of what lay inside: a body slumped over with two arrows jutting out from the chest. She climbed into the carriage despite her better judgment and pulled the body to her while she squeezed her eyes shut._

_She sucked in a breath and waited for a moment to pass before she opened her eyes again to inspect the face now cradled in her lap. Her brow furrowed in confused at the unfamiliar sight. It wasn't right – the face a different shape, the lifeless eyes an entirely different shade – and oh God –_

Regina woke up with a strangled gasp, heart still hammering in the same odd rhythm as the dream. In confusion, she threw an arm across the bed for a body that was no longer there to provide some measure of comfort. She retracted her arm as soon as it hit cold space, pressing the hand to her own chest instead. There was her heart, knocking firmly against her palm from inside her rib cage.

She pushed the covers off her, and padded down the hallway towards Henry's room. The door was half-way open. From the hall, she could discern the steady rise and fall of Henry's chest that reminded her _he_ was still alive and well.

She watched him until the first rays of the rising sun cast long shadows in his room. By then, a dull ache had settled in her lower back and the muscles in her calves burned, desperate for rest.

She was going to keep this Henry safe. Even if it meant driving _that woman_ out of their town.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The shrill buzz of Emma's alarm clock erupted at seven on Monday morning, rousing the blonde from deep sleep. She burrowed her head underneath her pillow to avoid the bright rays streaming through her window and swiped tiredly at the alarm's snooze button. After the emotional catastrophe that was the theme of her weekend, she was unprepared to face another work week as Storybrooke's only law enforcement officer.

While Emma wanted nothing more than to fall back to sleep, a sharp knock on her door, followed by the sound of Mary's voice thwarted her plans.

"Do you want me to cook breakfast?" Mary called out through the oak door.

Emma thought it over before declining the offer. "No, thanks." She rubbed a hand over face as she sat up trying to gather her thoughts. A second later, Emma realized it was entirely too early to be having a conversation with Mary, who she normally only saw after they both finished dressing for the day around eight in the morning.

Muffled shuffling came from the other side of the door, and then, "are you sure?"

The maternal tone that colored Mary's voice incited an amused smile out of Emma and forced her to make the five steps the separated her bed and the bedroom door. The doorknob rattled loudly before the gears caught allowing Emma to finally yank the door open from its frame; on worse days, it took Emma several minutes to open her door.

"I'll get something to eat on my way to work." Emma assured her roommate, who was already dressed and ready for the day and standing primly on the other side of the doorway.

"Drinking hot chocolate or coffee isn't a meal." Mary chastised, walking down the flight of the stairs that began just a few feet from Emma's doorway. She shot Emma a knowing look over her shoulder, mouth curled up in a smirk.

Emma followed the school teacher, still clad in a pair of green boxers and a white tank top she used for sleep, suddenly curious about the change in their morning routine. "What are you doing up so early?" She lingered on the last step of the staircase, one hand curled around the banister while the other gestured vaguely at Mary, who responded to the question with a look of wide-eyed innocence.

"You don't usually leave until 8." The elementary school was three blocks from their apartment, which put Mary's commute at a 10-minute walk most mornings. Class started at 8:30, which meant Mary was an entire hour and a half early.

Mary flushed at the statement, squirming under the scrutiny. Emma's narrowed eyes tracked Mary's nervous moments around the kitchen. The answer finally came to Emma when the floral arrangement that decorated their kitchen island fell into her field of vision.

"Dr. Whale?" Emma's brow shot up in both amusement and surprise. "Again?"

When Mary turned a brighter shade of red at being caught, Emma burst out laughing. She leaned against the banister for support while Mary glared at her, cowed.

"He was on-call last night. We're just going to grab coffee at the end of his shift."

"You can do without the secrecy." Emma chuckled lightly, "I'm not going to judge."

"I don't really know what I'm doing." Mary finally admitted with a loud exhale, worrying her bottom lip. She grabbed her purse that sat on the loveseat and shrugged a bit helplessly at Emma. The arrangement she and Dr. Whale had finally settled on was new to Mary, who regardless of her skeptic nature was a hopeless romantic at heart. She wanted passion and emotion, but Dr. Whale was, admittedly, a nice distraction. He was charming, affable, and mostly a gentleman.

"He sends you flowers," Emma shrugged, making her way towards the refrigerator when her stomach let out a low growl.

Mary hovered at the entryway, eyebrow arched as she watched the blonde expectantly. "What does that mean?"

"It's more than I've ever received." Emma surveyed the contents of the fridge, frowning at the number of options. It was difficult to pick something to eat when Mary kept a well-stocked fridge. Emma was accustomed to acidic black coffee from a gas station and a bagel, if she was particularly hungry.

"Oh." Mary's voice came out surprised.

Emma snapped her head up to catch a trace of sympathy marring Mary's face for a brief moment. Mary had enough sense to look contrite after she realized Emma had caught the underlying pity in her response.

"I'll see you later?" Mary sighed, hoping she didn't offend Emma, again.

"If you aren't busy with Dr. Whale," Emma winked to which Mary responded with an eye roll.

"I'll see you later." Mary confirmed with a wave before disappearing out the door.

Emma shook her head, amused at her roommate's antics. In any other city, Emma would have dismissed the school teacher almost immediately due to Mary's mild manners and too-wholesome disposition. But, there was something that lingered beneath Mary's bright optimism that drew Emma – an imperceptible loneliness that seemed to mirror Emma's own.

Another low rumble from her stomach pushed Emma out of her thoughts and back to the present task at hand. She closed the fridge and went for the box of cereal bars in the pantry, ripping into the package and taking a bite from the bar as she rushed back up the stairs two at a time.

While she showered and dressed for the day, she forced her thoughts away from work, since those thoughts often circled back to Graham and _that_ night. She pushed those to recesses of her mind, and tried to think only of how to apologize to Henry for her outburst the previous week.

How she would point him away from his delusions.

Helping Henry accept reality was one of the reasons she had stayed in town, but that had been sidetracked with the new job and Regina's antagonistic behavior. She glanced around the room with her boxes still stacked in the corner largely unpacked, and a surprising rush of claustrophobia took hold.

Could she stay long enough to help the kid, like she had intended? Even after everything?

She grabbed her blue jacket, draped across the chair, and walked out of the room before she could come up with an answer. There was no sense in wondering because she had a job that, at least for the moment, kept her rooted in place. She grabbed her car keys off the coffee table and locked the apartment behind her as she left.

The biting December chill hit her as soon as she stepped outside the apartment building. Emma noted she would need a thicker jacket soon if the sudden drop in temperature was indicative of another bitter winter ahead.

God, she missed Tallahassee, and the general warmth of the sunshine state.

Movement from the corner of her eye caught Emma's attention and caused her to pause. Someone across the street turned around abruptly when he noticed Emma staring at him with a scowl. He grinned sheepishly and shuffled in the opposite direction, hood pulled up over his head and hands pushed deep into his pockets.

Emma continued to glare at his retreating back, torn between yelling at David Nolan to stay away and feeling almost sorry for the confused ex-coma patient. Before she could come to a decision on what to do, her phone rang shrilly, destroying the last remnants of hope at a peaceful Monday morning.

The mayor's contact information flashed across the screen in block writing that blinked mockingly at the blonde. Emma bit back the frustrated groan that seemed to erupt naturally at the thought of dealing with Regina so early in the morning. After a beat, she hit ignore, not quite ready to start the week with Regina yelling about something or another. If it was an emergency, Regina would leave a voicemail and Emma would listen to it –in an hour, or so, at least, and maybe, after a cup of coffee.

Setting the phone to silent, she slipped the device into her pocket and opened the door of her Beetle with jerk.

The morning was not going her way.

She hoped the rest of the week would fare better.

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><p>On the other side of town, Regina scowled as the call faltered in the middle of the fourth ring only to be replaced by Emma Swan's monotone voice: <em>I can't come to the phone right now, leave a message.<em>

"Deputy Swan," Regina managed through gritted teeth,. "I need to talk to you regarding your employment as soon as possible." She pinched the bridge of her nose to hold in a loud exhale.

"I do hope you can pencil me into your busy morning," she added in a honeyed but deadly voice.

By Monday morning, Regina had a plan to run Emma out of town. It was simple, really, now that Henry was disillusioned with his hero, remaining angry and sullen all weekend at the mere mention of his birth mother. The people that kept Emma rooted to the town had begun to splinter – first Graham, now Henry. Regina thought if she could just push the issue harder, then maybe.

At the sound of Henry's heavy footsteps, Regina looked up from staring idly at the counter top in time to watch her son come to a stop at the kitchen's entryway, backpack slung over his shoulder and tie in a messy knot.

She shot him a warning look at his slightly disheveled appearance. "Eat your breakfast before you go anywhere," she commanded with a nod at the plate of eggs and toast on the kitchen island.

Henry frowned, "I'm already late for the bus." His good natured attitude towards the Mayor had run out this morning, replaced by the normal bitterness he directed at her. The shift was fueled by the vivid nightmare that had woken him up. He dreamt of the Evil Queen ripping out the Huntsman's heart with maniacal glee, of the curse and the sadness that enveloped the town; the thick wool over everyone's eyes that kept them fixed in a half-awake state. He reminded himself, then, what it was the Evil Queen had done to the other characters in the book. There was no redemption for that, regardless of her promise to protect him.

How could she be excused for the curse? It was the reason why Henry had spent the majority of his childhood isolated and lonely. If she hadn't meddled, if she hadn't enacted the curse, he would have grown up with a family – a mother, a father, and grandparents who were royalty.

The other children would've _lined up_ to be his friend. Instead, he lived in a town where his classmates left him alone, wary of the boy who was the Mayor's son and too wrapped up in their cursed state of temporal suspension.

"I'm driving you to school." Regina studied him over the rim of her coffee mug with a raised eyebrow, daring him to challenge her.

She tried to quell the disappointment at the return of his hatred. The past weekend had been far too pleasant of an experience to be a permanent. She knew this, and yet, here she was on Monday morning: surprised and upset at the turn of events.

"Why?" Still, he sat down in front of the plate, dropping his backpack on the empty stool beside him with a loud clatter. He shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth and glanced suspiciously at the Mayor, brow knitting together, as he tried to figure out her true motives.

It was difficult staying two steps ahead; Henry seemed to forever play catch-up with her.

"Because I said so." Regina responded in a clipped tone. She walked her cup to the sink and rinsed out the dish before arranging it into the dishwasher. "Were you planning to walk with Deputy Swan this morning?"

Henry's frown only deepened at that. "No." He ripped a bite off his toast and avoided the look the Queen pinned on him, which held an even mixture of satisfaction and curiosity. The look made Henry wish he had lied, but it was too late to take it back, now.

She stared at him expectantly, waiting for a more elaborate explanation. "Are you going to tell me what happened between the two of you?" She sighed at his refusal to maintain eye contact; instead, he continued to stare glumly at the empty space over her shoulder, reticent as ever.

"Henry." Regina warned with an impatient tone. She wished he had given her more time before regressing back to these habits. There were days she lapsed into almost resenting the boy during moments of extreme frustration, particularly when she missed _her son_ – the version of him that had toddled after her when he was younger, pressed sloppy kisses to her cheek, and promised to love her, forever.

She wanted to demand Henry tell her what had changed, aside from his obvious obsession over the fairy tales. When had she stopped being _'Mom'_?

Henry shrugged refusing to offer an explanation. He turned his attention back to the plate in front of him, and gulped down the glass of orange juice to wash it all down.

A quiet second passed, and then a sigh, "I'm going to get my things."

Regina studied his blank expression a moment longer before making her way towards her study. She grabbed her purse and the manila folder sitting on her table that contained the city's budget for the next fiscal year to work on at the office between meetings with various city council officials.

It was ironic to find herself in charge of securing the basic necessities for the people she had loathed once upon a time. Twenty-eight years had eroded the resentment, only to be replaced by dull frustration over their ineptitude at helping her run the city.

When she turned around to call for Henry, she found him already at the doorway of her office, leaning against the door jamb with an odd expression on his face. It unnerved her how strongly he believed in the fairy tales, wondered if somehow his discovery of the true nature of their town was part of the curse.

She had murdered his namesake for this reality; it would be fitting if her son caused its demise.

"Ready?" Regina broke the silence as she approached him.

Mouth pressed in a thin line, he nodded and stepped aside to let her pass. He walked a half-step behind her, studying the stiffness of her posture and the hard lines around her eyes. The rhythmic click of her heels against the hardwood floor of their hallway filled the tense silence between the duo.

"Why did you adopt me?" He frowned at the words that now hung in the air, startled that he spoke them out loud.

The thought had kept him up all morning as he pored over the Huntsman's story under the covers with the sun slowly rising outside. If the Queen could kill the Huntsman, could kill her father in cold blood, could put the entire town under a spell, what did she need him for? Why did she continue to pretend to love him, or try to love him to begin with?

Now, the question was out in the open and his heart thundered in his chest, suddenly anxious over her answer.

She paused, hand hovering over the knob on the front door. Her mouth hung open slightly as she tried to find the right words to his question.

Henry let out a breath, chest tightening painfully as he watched the woman that raised him struggle to formulate an answer. "Forget it." He pushed the door open for her and flew to the car, blinking back the sudden wetness pooling in the corner of his eyes.

A part of him was hoping- well, it was all a moot point, really.

"Henry." Her heels clacked loudly against the cement of their driveway as she walked around to his side of the car. She bent to his eye level and held his chin between her thumb and index finger, gently tilting his head so he would meet her eyes. "I love you. Do you believe that?"

He shifted his eyes away from the intensity of her gaze.

"I love you." She repeated with a hint of desperation.

* * *

><p>When Emma rolled slowly into her parking spot at the station, Regina was already waiting at the front door, hip cocked to the side with a hand resting on it. A burst of irritation blossomed in the pit of her stomach immediately – a feeling only Regina could elicit out of Emma.<p>

The woman was infuriating in a way that left Emma at a loss.

"You're late," Regina stated with a sniff once Emma made it out of her car and to the precinct. "Not that it matters anyway. You're fired."

Emma didn't hesitate despite the Mayor's announcement. She opened the door to the station and walked into the building, leaving Regina to follow her. "Good morning to you, too," Emma called over her shoulder, unfazed.

Regina frowned and followed the blonde, unsure of what Emma was attempting to accomplish "Ms. Swan," Regina growled, cornering the blonde at her desk. "You're fired, as of this moment."

"Graham hired me." Emma shot back, whirling around to glare at the older woman. She folded her arms across her chest, digging in her heels for this latest round of one-upmanship.

Regina smoothed a wrinkle on her blazer. "Well, Sheriff Graham is no longer around to uphold that decision." She held out a hand for Emma's badge impatiently.

"This is my department, now, and I want you off it."


End file.
